


the second you leave, i miss you

by PjCole



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Established Relationship, First Time, Fluff and Smut, Frottage, Hand Jobs, M/M, Making Out, Porn with Feelings, Size Difference
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-25
Updated: 2019-02-25
Packaged: 2019-11-05 13:25:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17919647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PjCole/pseuds/PjCole
Summary: He wants to kiss Steve one more time and another time after that, and a third and fourth time, if he can swing it. His body is hot, so over warm and delicious. If Steve steps away, Tony will fall right through the floor and he just can't take it.For Stony Bingo Square T1: Kink - Hand Jobs





	the second you leave, i miss you

**Author's Note:**

> So, I had to repost this because it refused to show in the tag. Anyways, this is my first Stony Bingo fill!! Yay! Thank you to everyone on the MCU Stony Discord for cheering me on.

_Kiss me in the doorway_  
 _Always on your way out_  
 _I'm trying to make you stay_  
 _So we can make out_  
-Julia Nunes

“I really should get going.” Steve tells him, but Tony feels more than hears the words as they vibrate across his lips. It makes him whine, pulls a little pathetic noise from deep in his throat as he presses their faces closer in protest. For a long moment, it seems Steve has given up on the idea in favor of using his tongue to drive Tony insane. 

Then he pulls back again, not far enough to _not_ be considered kissing, but it is distance and not at all what Tony wants. “I have a test tomorrow morning, Tony.”

“One more.” He replies, because tests are stupid and Steve is so very good at kissing and it is just ridiculous that Tony might be deprived this. He said the same thing earlier, but as always Steve doesn’t call him out on it. He just smiles, soft and silky smooth against Tony’s upper lip. It tingles, makes Tony shiver a bit and how had he ever kissed anyone else. 

It’s not a new thought, but it still gets his head spinning a little bit. It’s so different, this connection, this never ending spark, actually wanting to keep someone around day after day after day. And he wants to, oh god, he wants to keep Steve right here for the rest of their lives. It feels imperative, like his very atoms will fizzle out and dissipate if they break for anything more than air. 

They are in the little entryway of Tony’s small apartment, pressed up to one wall and wrapped around each other to the point of absurdity. It was supposed to be a goodbye kiss, Steve has both his jacket and shoes on even. Honestly, Tony really did intend to let him go, only meant to get a few more seconds of Steve while he could. It always starts that way, the best laid plans, but the second Steve leans down Tony loses all of them. 

He is so tall, so broad and solid, he has to hunch down and lift Tony’s chin up for even a light peck and it makes Tony feel so small. He used to hate that, hated being the youngest guy in the school, hated being the shortest person in class. Even after starting his graduate program, he’d stayed short; that late teens’ growth spurt never came in and with his twentieth birthday on the horizon he’s starting to think it never will. 

With Steve though, god, it just makes him feel so good. He loves being crowded into the wall, loves how Steve can cover his entire body without trying at all. It makes him want things, want to grasp and grind and move this to a more horizontal location. Steve’s hands are so big, they can hold Tony’s entire head between them, block his view from anything but those plump pink lips. His arms, his arms are so strong, firm and warm and Tony could run his hands over them all day and still find a new curve to investigate. And his shoulders. They are perfect, solid and wide and shaped exactly for Tony’s arms to drape over them, for his hand to clutch into and hold when Steve twirls his tongue just so. 

He is so large and Tony wants him to use it, wants him to push and push until Tony is pressed so far into the wall he can do nothing but melt against every plane of Steve’s body. He wants to be handled and grasped too tight, wants bruises on his hips. He wants Steve to pick him up and grind into him and never, ever stop kissing him. 

Steve does none of this, hasn’t done more than wrap his arms all the way around Tony’s waist to keep their chests pressed together. It feels great when he does, feels amazing when one of those big hands is pressing into Tony’s back while the other rubs circles into the dip just above his ass. He wants more though, he wants every single inch of Steve in a way that makes him feel nearly delirious. 

The real kicker of it all, though, is for all Tony is brimming over with wants, he is also so perfectly content. He could spend the next ten years doing nothing more than laughing into a kiss with Steve. They could go the rest of their lives without Steve ever daring to dip his hand lower and Tony wouldn’t mind. If he can get nothing but these happy kisses, he honestly will be satisfied.

“I had a really good time.” Steve murmurs and finally leans back far enough for Tony to start seeing straight again. His hair is a little wild and it seems Tony got a good handle on his collar if the crooked swoop of his T-shirt is anything to go by. Hell, even his hoodie is precariously close to sliding down his arm on the one side. It is a sight, a beautiful one sure, but Tony barely sees it. 

All his focus is on Steve’s face, on his bright sunny blue eyes, his plump rubbed red lips, his grin. God, his grin is so bright and Tony’s knees go weak. He can’t help himself, he really can’t, because Steve just looks so happy, so delighted by making out in the doorway.

“Just, one more. One more.” And Steve sighs, pretends to be put out and Tony is light, full of some bright glowing energy. He likes this guy too much, likes him so much more than any person he’s ever met and he thinks he might well and truly be losing his mind. 

“One.” Steve nods and Tony shivers, shudders near violently because Steve is leaning back down and, oh god, he is so tall. 

Honestly, if Tony knew taking that Calculus TA position would lead here, he might have taken a little longer to think the offer over. If he could have seen the class roster, somehow known that this blond adonis would come to his office hours week one and absolutely turn his life upside down, he would have at least read the course syllabus before shrugging and saying “Fine, whatever.” He can’t live like this, can’t take it, something is going to give out and it just might be his heart at this point. 

Because, see the issue with Steve has absolutely nothing to do with his outrageously stunning looks. Alright, it has a good deal to do with it, Tony can admit that, but it is certainly not the core problem. If Steve was just a pair of huge biceps and some rockin’ abs, Tony would have gotten his one and done, well, done some time ago. It’s not like Steve is the most attractive person Tony’s ever–

Alright, no it _is_ like Steve is the single most attractive person on this earth, but it’s _not_ like Tony hasn’t been with several close seconds. He’s bumped his uglies with a rather wide array of lovely bodies and for all they have a nice place in his spank bank memory, he never wanted to just kiss them goodbye for twenty minutes straight. He never wanted to actually _see_ most of them for the goodbye at all.

With Steve though, Tony wants to fill up his entire day with his presence. He goes on movie dates with him, actual real paying attention to the plot and sharing a popcorn, movie dates. He sits in a dark room with the guy for several hours and feels no need to try for more than resting his head on his shoulder. They sit in the second row, Steve eats the entire bag of twizzlers before the previews finish, Tony laughs and it’s so perfect Tony will never be able to go to a theatre without him. 

They can sit in the same room, not even speaking and Tony can’t keep the smile off his face. Rhodey’s taken to calling him a lovesick fool whenever they skype and Tony can’t even defend himself. Every day is better, every hour is brighter and is this why people date each other? He never got it, would watch his parents argue and throw things and honestly not understand why people subjected themselves to it. 

Here though, with Steve’s arms circling him, his breath harsh against Tony’s cheek and lips wide open, Tony knows the answer. It’s this feeling, this swooping in his stomach when Steve licks the roof of his mouth, when he bites down on Steve’s lower lip and gets a little gust of hot air over his face for the trouble. It’s the way his fingers tingle when Steve brushes his thumb over his knuckles, how his head fits just so into the crook of Steve’s neck. He wants to write terrible poetry and play a boombox outside Steve’s bedroom window, no mind if it’s snowing or raining or 3 million degrees. He wants to buy him flowers and do something excessively crazy, like ask him to spend the night and do nothing more than sleep next to each other. 

He wants to kiss Steve one more time and another time after that, and just for good measure a third and fourth time if he can swing it. His body is hot, so over warm and delicious. If Steve steps away, Tony will fall right through the floor and he just can’t take it. 

“No, no. More.” Tony is saying, even before Steve really opens his eyes. Again, it works for a moment, it always works for a moment and that is the best thing about Steve, honestly. He leans in closer, pressed tight and hard. His mouth is closed but so firm and plump. God, how is just pressing their mouths together so wonderful?

Then he pulls back and opens his eyes and Tony keeps his closed on principle, keeps his chin tilted up and parts his lips to lick the bottom one because he knows how to play these games. It gets him a rough huff of air that tastes like victory. 

“Tony, I can’t just stay here all night.” Steve tells him, but he doesn’t sound even half convinced of that fact himself. His voice is gravelly, rough and catching at the edges. It pours like hot molasses down Tony’s body and he feels sticky sweet with the rumbling texture of it. 

“Why not?” He pleads, out right pleads and he can’t even muster any shame for it. This deserves pleading, deserves him whining and gripping the front of Steve’s shirt, his pout pulled down just a touch too far to be attractive.

“I have a test.” Steve replies and it sounds like a question, like he can’t even remember anymore. Tony can relate, he isn’t even sure what day of the week it is, couldn’t tell the time if his life depended on it. His lips are tingling and almost sore from all the attention. It’s a damn shame they can’t stay like this all the time. “Plus, your feet will get sore if we stand here all night.”

“Don’t care.” Tony rushes out. His voice is so breathy, if he had half a mind left to spare he would clear his throat. Instead, he tips forwards, leans up on his toes and bumps his mouth against the line of Steve’s jaw. It’s a little stubble-y, a little rough and so sensually wonderful Tony can’t help but part his lips to get a little kitten lick of it. 

“Tony, I–” It comes out fractured, punctuated by a sharp grasp of Steve’s fingers into the meet of his lower back. He drags his lips and tongue up the side of that perfect sharp jaw, brings his teeth into the equation just at the hinge of it. He tastes so outrageously good, it can’t be legal. Tony should alert the authorities, or just spend a solid twenty minutes licking and biting at the soft skin under his ear. If the hitching breath Steve is letting out is anything to go by, he certainly sides with that second option. 

“Just, please. We can go back to the couch.” Tony whispers into his ear, can’t help but test the give of the lobe between his teeth. The cropped hairs of Steve’s side burn rub into his face and that may just be the only sensation he ever needs to feel from now until the end of time. He runs his nose up the length of it, leans up on the tips of his toes and into the solidity of Steve’s shoulders to get a good graze at his cheek bone. Without thinking he presses a lingering kiss right at the crest of it and feels his whole chest bursting at the tenderness. The skin of it is warm against his mouth and, oh Steve’s blush, he could spend thirty lifetimes just thinking about it. 

“It’s late.” Steve mutters from far away, but he’s leaning forward, down down down, to press his lips into the side of Tony’s neck. That is, wow, that is so much better than kissing Steve’s jaw. He is gentle, soft and sweet with his light sucking kisses. He takes his time, drags his lips up the length of Tony’s carotid and bites down where it meets his jaw. God, no wonder Steve let out such a great huff of air. Tony can feel his own leeking out, a high pitched thing dragged up right along with it. 

His brain might just be spilling out his ears, which is the only reason he doesn’t stop himself before muttering, “You can stay.”

At first he is certain Steve didn’t hear him, is certain he didn’t even really let those words out himself. Steve is still nibbling into the underside of his jaw and Tony is still leaning most of his weight into his boyfriend’s large frame. Then the echo reverberates back and Steve seems to finally register their meaning, because he pulls back with a pop. If Tony could think past the startled look in Steve’s eyes he might have shivered at the thought of a hickey so high up. 

“I–” Steve starts and Tony panics. Fully and completely panics, because fuck, he just spent the better half of their make out session thinking about how much he was totally okay never even having sex with Steve. 

“Not like that!” Tony blurts and Steve takes a reflexive step back, eyes wide at the really unnecessary volume of that outburst. Tony’s skin is buzzing. “Not, not if you don’t want to. We can just sleep, you know, next to each other.” Tony tries and, oh fuck, that is not better. That is worse than trying to get him to have sex honestly. That gives away too much, too soon. Tony has a reputation, asking for sex can be brushed off, but genuinely asking to cuddle while they fall asleep is not something anyone on earth would ever expect to hear from him. 

Steve is just staring though, and he can’t let Steve think for even a second that Tony is just here for the hope of sex. He just can’t, because Steve is so very important. He is special and bright, lighting up every corner of Tony’s life in only their month together. Showing his soft underbelly is all Tony can do at this point and if he had to show it to anyone, well, Steve is the perfect person. He won’t stab it, he won’t laugh at it. 

“I have a really big bed, and stupidly expensive sheets.” Tony tries and Steve blinks, possibly a good blink, Tony thinks a little hysterically. “Seriously, they are super soft and luxurious and way more than any person actually needs to sleep on, but I have my hangups and they are one of them. I bet I have shirts big enough for you, and I have underwear I’ve never worn, so you could just go straight to class.” Oh, jesus, he just offered to let Steve use his underwear. This is unraveling.

”We don’t have to do anything, really.” Tony promises, he scrambles at his thoughts like they are a deck of cards he just threw out on the floor. “I like just being with you, just sitting and being close and–”

“Sweetheart, stop.” Suddenly, Steve is right there, face close up to Tony once again. He has a finger on Tony’s lips and he is smiling that soft and beautiful smile of Tony’s terrible hypothetical poetry. The endearment makes something deep in Tony’s bones settle, float to the bottom of a pool and rest. 

“I just wanna kiss you.” Tony admits. It’s true, it’s all he wants to do. He wakes up wanting to find Steve and kiss him. He sits next to Steve at those stupid movie theaters and just wants to kiss his cheek, kiss his knuckles and his shoulder. He is so full of something, something both calm and desperate, and the only way to get it out is to kiss Steve. 

“Okay.” Steve tells him and his smile grows brighter, warmer. All the tension in Tony’s body just let’s go at that smile, all the embarrassment and uncertainty collapses under the weight. Then Steve steps forward and dips down to press a kiss on the tip of Tony’s nose. It flairs bright in his chest and Tony’s face splits open in a grin he’s sure looks a little dopey. 

“Yeah?” He chances a kiss on Steve’s nose and gets a little chuckle for it. It’s such a silly gesture, something only his mom ever did when he was too small to really remember it clearly. He likes it though, likes the silliness, the sticky sweetness of it. 

“Yeah, I can…” Steve starts, then swallows, adam's apple jumping down and back up under his skin. Tony feels an unreasonable urge to kiss it too, but flicks his eyes back up to Steve’s instead. There is a little nervousness there, a little tension, but mostly he just looks indulgent. He’s looking at Tony like he could be talked into anything in the world and not really mind. It makes Tony’s stomach flutter, makes him feel small and precious. “I can sleep over.”

“Awesome.” Tony beams, it’s ridiculous how much he smiles these days. Something is bound to be sprained at this rate and he can’t honestly get himself to mind. 

Steve’s smile is lighter now, but the warmth radiates all over Tony and he just basks. He feels like a lazy house cat, delighting in the sheer sunlight that is Steve Rogers’ happiness. He runs his fingers up Steve’s arms, over those broad shoulders to rest on either side of his neck. In return, Steve settles both of his hands on either side of Tony’s waist, clutches into the fabric of his T-shirt. 

They are just looking at each other for a long while, eyes locked and stupid grins on their faces. Tony can’t quite pick out why he feels so giddy, but it can’t be all that important when Steve is running his hands slowly up and down his waist and hips. Nothing can be important when Steve is looking at him so sincerely, so soft and lovely. 

“We don’t have to keep standing here.” Steve says a good thousand years later and Tony has to blink a few times before he can understand english again. He feels his body warm a little and takes the tiny step back allowed by his close proximity to the wall. His hands trail down Steve’s chest, before flopping down to his sides. He swings them back and forth and Steve chuckles before scooping them both up in his own. As always, Tony can feel the skin of his knuckles tingle as Steve rubs his thumbs along them. 

“Right.” Tony mutters, then shakes his head and pulls what he can manage of himself together. He takes a deep breath, pulls their locked hands together than apart, before nudging Steve backward. Letting go of one hand, Tony turns and pulls Steve into the main living space. 

He starts towards the couch, but glances back at Steve and sees the still mostly askew hoodie and tied up sneakers. He stops and Steve bumps into him a little, clearly not paying too much attention to anything other than Tony’s back. Normally, that would give him a little thrill, a spike of adrenaline and joy, but he feels stupidly uncertain. Part of him wants to just rewind and let Steve go back to his stupid dorm room, just take a handful more kisses and call it good. 

The other part is so unreasonably excited by the idea of waking up to Steve in his bed tomorrow, it just might burst right out of his skin. 

“Do you want to change now, or?” Tony tries, gesturing haphazardly towards the door of his bedroom with his free hands. Steve follows the movement and once again Tony is tempted by that bobbing adam’s apple. 

Steve looks back at him and gives a jerky shake of his head, before dropping Tony’s hand and walking the rest of the way to the couch. He kicks off his shoes, tucking them under it with a nudge of his toe, and swings off his hoodie to toss it across the back. Then he sits, posture laughably formal and palms rubbing into the tops his legs. The color is bleeding over his cheeks and suddenly, Tony is calm. 

He feels his shoulders release and walks over to Steve, stopping right in front of him, close enough to have his leg’s brush against Steve’s knees. His hand lifts of its own accord, brushes across the hairs just barely falling over Steve’s forehead and smoothes them back until he can play with the ones at his nape. Steve just lets him, looks up at him with those beautiful baby blues and stays motionless. 

It shouldn’t be this easy, their awkward edges should catch for longer, should linger in the air and make them both uneasy. Instead, Tony can just run his hand through Steve’s hair without a thought in the world. Nothing has been this easy, nothing to do with other people anyways. Steve comes as simply as coding, as mathematics and physics. He is the undeniable truth of the universe, fascinating and driving Tony to understand more and more everyday. 

“I thought you just wanted to kiss me.” Steve says softly, cutting Tony off mid stroke. His grin is cheeky, clearly pleased to have Tony so focused on petting his hair. 

“Oh shut up.” Tony replies, but the words sound like a caress, soft and gentle as Tony’s fingers playing with the strands of his hair. 

“Make me.” And Tony can’t ignore such an invitation, can’t do anything but swing one leg up and then the other to straddle Steve’s lap. His hand is already in the perfect position to drive Steve, to pull him in and shut the man up just like he wanted. 

For all Tony loved being pressed into the wall and surrounded by every inch of Steve, this position feels just as satisfying. Steve under him, solid weight between his legs and head tilted up to meet Tony, is heady. His hands are big and solid against the sides of his waist, but Tony feels in control, feels powerful. It is his decision to tilt their heads, to collapse more and more weight into Steve, to shift his hips up and down just the slightest amount. 

Steve is gripping him harder, fingers flexing and relaxing everytime Tony pulls his tongue in and sucks hard. His hips are shifting, thighs flexing and opening just a little wider when Tony wets his bottom lip, pulls it into his own mouth and bites down. It opens Tony’s own legs, adjusts his balance and forces him to settle more into the solid line of Steve’s lap and less on his own knees. Shifting back and forth, Tony can just make out the tell tale firmness right under his own balls. 

His sweatpants feel somehow too tight and he can’t hope to stop the shifts of his hips. Steve is getting bolder, mouth wet and so inviting, hands running up and down Tony’s back like he needs to map every contour. He keeps licking along the top of Tonys tongue, pulling it into his mouth and biting lightly into it before repeating the motion with Tony’s bottom lip. It’s rhythmic and predictable and Tony is losing his mind over it. His lips are buzzing, overfull with blood and so wonderfully sore. They feel bruised, tender and everytime Steve switches between his tongue and lip Tony shivers. 

At this point, Tony can barely be called an active participant in the kiss, he just opens and closes his mouth with Steve’s push and pull, sucks when he can, nibbles when skin catches between his teeth. It’s all happening in some animal part of his brain, well past conscious thought. His body is out of his control and he can’t even figure out where exactly his hands are other than some part of Steve. Sometimes it’s his shoulder, the solid meat at the juncture of it and his neck, sometimes it’s his back, the dip where his torso tapers in so beautifully. Other times it’s Steve’s hand, somehow sliding up Tony’s arm and locking their fingers together to squeeze it too tight, to press it into his cheek. 

He is losing track, lost and consumed, happily drowning in the slick slide of their mouths. Then Steve pulls back just enough to trail across Tony’s cheek and over to his ear. There is nothing to stop him, nothing for his lips to focus on and the sound is out before he can think to stop it. Cracking and breathy, it slips into the air like it has a life of its own and it might as well because Tony can’t be responsible for himself, let alone a noise. Steve is biting his earlobe and holy fuck it makes his body collapse, makes his shoulder drop and his back twist. His hips grind down harshly and Steve grunts. 

“Oh, Tony.” He manages and his big hands are on Tony’s hips, firm and so very close to the bruising pressure Tony’s been wanting for weeks. It very nearly kills him. He can’t help it, can’t hope to do anything but grind down more. His thighs flex as he desperately tries to get some leverage in his knees, to tilt his pelvis enough to rub over Steve’s dick on the down stroke while still rubbing his own into Steve’s lower stomach on the way up. 

It’s so hot and Steve is panting into his neck, breath humid and Tony can’t help but curl into it. His hands grip hard in to Steve’s back and Steve’s just get firmer, start guiding his movement. Oh fuck, is that even better and Tony let’s him. Goes limp and shivery as Steve pushes and pulls and suddenly freezes. 

Tony gasps at the jarring halt to their rhythm, eyes flying open and cock throbbing in protest. He leans back, breathing too fast as he tries to catch Steve’s eyes. They’re squeezed shut, tight enough to mimic the vice like grip of his hands on Tony. If he weren’t so worried about what went wrong, Tony would shudder at the outright insane show of strength. He can’t more than lean back with how tight Steve’s holding him and it’s nothing short of unreasonably hot. 

Tony tries to slow his breath, unclenches his fingers and slowly eases his hands off Steve’s shoulders. He places them on both of Steve’s own, gently pulling them from his hips so he can lean back further. That seems to wake Steve up a bit and he finally looks at Tony. His pupils are blown black and there is enough hunger there to make Tony swallow. 

Beside that though, there is an uneasiness in the line of his shoulders, a hesitance in his breathing. Tony pulls his legs a bit more together, adjusts so he is no longer sitting flat on Steve’s erection. Unfortunately, the movement is anything but graceful and Tony hisses when his own dick bumps into the side of Steve’s hip. 

“It’s okay, we don’t…” Tony tries to say, but then Steve is turning his hands to pull them out of Tony’s and running them back up his thighs. It’s not fair, not at all and Tony cannot be held responsible for his actions. He whines and grinds back into that deliciously solid hipbone, just for a second, not even enough to really be noticable. He can feel Steve’s fingers clutch again and takes a haggering breath to get some much needed oxygen back into his brain. 

Attempt two of creating space between them doesn’t go much better because now Tony can fully see Steve’s face. It’s so red, blotchy across his cheeks and nose, bleeding down unevenly to his neck. Tony can almost see it continuing under his rumpled T-shirt and, holy shit, why on earth did he stop kissing that neck?

Steve’s fingers spasm again, tapping an unsteady staccato rhythm into the sides of Tony’s legs and it shakes some of the haze loose. He pulls up properly this time, straightens his back enough that Steve has to look up to keep their eyes locked. Tony starts to slide one leg off the couch, begins the process of getting out of Steve’s lap. “I’ll just–”

“Don’t.” Steve cuts off and yanks Tony back so hard, their chests bump off each other and it’s all Tony can do to avoid colliding his chin with Steve’s forehead. It seems to shock both of them and when Tony cranes his neck to see Steve’s face his eyes are open wide. He just stares up at Tony for a long stretch, blotchy skin smoothing over into one bright shade of red. 

Then he collapses, shoves his face into the crook of Tony’s neck and lets out a distressingly amusing groan. 

“Steve.” Tony says with a poorly disguised laugh, which only makes Steve groan louder. His arms tighten around Tony’s middle and he burros further into the space where Tony’s neck and shoulder meet. Tony’s smile spreads and his chest seems to fill with something lighter than helium, ready to float away if not for Steve’s hold on him. 

Tony lifts his hands, runs one along the hunched curve of Steve’s spine, scratches the fingers of the other along his scalp. “I meant it, Steve. I don’t expect anything, I just didn’t want you to leave.”

“I know.” Steve mumbles directly into his skin and if it all wasn’t so adorable Tony might have spared a thought for how nice those lips felt back on his neck again. 

“We can stop kissing.” Tony offers, but can’t muster much conviction for it. They both know it will only be a matter of time before Tony starts whining for a peck and then a couple more and then they will be right back here all over again. The first step in getting over an addiction is admitting you have one. Then again, Tony has absolutely no desire to even get the first meeting chip for this particular vice. 

For a moment Tony thinks Steve is just going to spend the rest of his life with his face mashed into Tony skin. Which, admittedly, wouldn’t actually be all that terrible, but then Steve shifts. He leans back, uncurls himself a little, presses into the hand still resting between his shoulders. When he meets Tony’s eyes this time, there is a determined furrow in his brow. 

It’s that ‘about to face down the world with just my own two fists’ fire in his eyes, the one Tony fell for that first day. That righteous bite to his look that meant he was going to pass calculus whether Tony helped him or not, but that he intended to get the world’s worst T.A to take his job seriously. Which of course he did, because Steve could do absolutely everything he set his mind to. He could get someone that finished learning single variable calc when he was 8, actually looking at the material again. He could get the guy who scheduled office hours every second thursday from 12am-3am, hold test review for the entire class without more than two minutes of prompting. 

Steve could get Tony to write off one night stands and parties with people he barely tolerated, in exchange for going to the school football games and taking an entire day drive to Vermont for no other reason than spending time together. He could get Tony to pine after him for nearly a year and a half without letting on for a second that he was doing the same thing. He could be brave and charming and wonderful, by suddenly squaring his shoulders and looking Tony dead in the eye mid argument over some dumb TV show. Only to then chance everything and kiss Tony like the entire world was ending and this was the last thing he would ever do. 

All that to say, Tony is completely unable to hold back the shiver that look inspires. 

“Or, we could not.” Steve says and it takes a second for Tony to blink back into their conversation, but then he can only smile. He knows it looks sickeningly soft, can feel the affection dripping off of it, but to be honest he really likes that Steve can make his face do things like this. 

“Yeah, we could keep kissing.” Tony agrees and starts to lean in to punctuate is agreement, but he catches the heavy bob in Steve’s throat and rushes to reassure him. “Just kissing. I’ll be better about, well–”

“Or.” Steve cuts him off, only to shut his mouth and take a deep steadying breath through his nose. The exhale fans over Tony’s wet lips and that certainly should not be allowed ever. Steve’s hands unclench from the fabric at Tony’s back and slowly inch down, fingers getting closer and closer to the swell of Tony’s ass. It makes something, something important probably, short out in his brain. “You could _not_ be better.”

Tony isn’t sure where exactly this is going, can’t think much past the feeling of Steve’s huge hands finally, fucking finally, cuping each cheek and pressing just enough that Tony feels poised for direction. 

“I’m really fine not doing anything.” Falls out of Tony’s mouth and it seems that something important must have been some kind of speech filter or close your mouth processor, because more just tumbles out too. “I just wanna be close to you. Really, I can wait. I know we’ve established I have absolutely no patience at all, but I really don’t mind, Steve. We can wait as long as you want, hell, we could wait forever for all I care. It really doesn’t matter to me if we–.”

“I know, sweetheart.” Steve cuts in again, and his features are just as soft as they were back in the doorway. His face is still red and the spasm of his hands give away the tension still in his body, but he looks calm. He looks sure. “I know, but I want to. With you.”

“You want to?” Tony blurts, still not back to full functionality. This is going somewhere, somewhere Tony honestly did not see coming when Steve came over to have frozen pizza and play video games. His body is thrumming, all the coiling heat from before is back in full force, rushing through his veins like a straight shot of adrenaline. 

“Yes.” Steve agrees and something about Tony’s rising body temperature must be coming across as promising because his hands are shaking less, gripping tighter. It’s so unbelievably good, Tony just might not even make it to doing whatever the hell it is Steve’s suddenly decided he wants to try. “I really really want to. Could we do something?”

“We could, we definitely could.” In what world can Steve think Tony would say anything else? He’s been completely incapable of not plastering himself to Steve since that first kiss. Tony’s been held back on nothing but duct tape and sheer force of will. It takes Steve hours to leave sometimes because Tony just won’t stop kissing him and Steve honestly thinks for even a second that Tony wouldn’t be jumping at the chance to do literally anything with him? Tony goes to football games, volunteers at soup kitchens, and fucking watches shitty black and white movies for him. Tony will literally do anything in the world if it means Steve will just kiss him. “I am all about doing something, never much one for doing nothing, I–”

“If you’re not ready, it’s okay.” Steve rushes out then, looking Tony in the eye like he is half a second away from giving a lecture on enthusiastic consent. “I like just kissing you, too.”

“I want to.” Tony manages, though it comes out strangled because he is _literally_ half a second from swallowing his own tongue. He suddenly remembers that he can actually actively control his body and rushes to punctuate the admission with some kind of physical demonstration. Unfortunately, remembering he can control his body and actually doing anything with it are two very different things, and all he manages is scrambling to clutch his fingers into Steve’s shoulders and collapse his knees to fully settle into his lap once more. 

“Oh.” Steve breathes out and then his hands are gripping so deliciously hard that Tony can no longer remember his own goddamn name. “Good.”

The only thing on earth Tony can do in response is crash into him with all the passion of a freight train, barreling off the rails and over the edge of a cliff.

Steve’s lips are open before Tony even gets there and there is instantly tongue, wet and slick and sliding everywhere. His hips are grinding up and that just makes Tony’s entire body light up like the Fourth of July. It’s just like he thought it would be, just exactly like he wanted it. Steve is so strong, so fierce, driving Tony to press in closer and closer until they can no longer be considered two separate bodies. His own arms are flung so securely around Steve’s neck that he can squeeze his own elbows. 

Above all though is Steve’s mouth. His hot, delicious, wonderful mouth moving in rhythm with Tony’s. His teeth are biting, the fierce pressure of skin on skin bruising and breath stealing and so good, so fucking good. Everything before pales in comparison to what is happening now, doesn’t hold a fucking candle to the absolute frenzy they are composing between them.

Just as Tony starts to consider the chances that they might spontaneously combust any minute, the pace starts to mellow out. The sweeps of Steve’s tongue grow more exploritory than owning, the bites of his teeth no longer so close to drawing blood. It settles and shifts and Tony’s body is going lax with each soft sucking kiss. 

Steve’s hands stop kneading into the meet of his ass to start running up and down his back, long sweeping movements that settle Tony further. It gets tender, grows sweet and soft and so achingly gentle Tony isn’t sure anything before even happened. His chest is still heaving, he is still gulping down great breaths every time they seperate an inch, but it feels slower. His lungs fill, his diaphragm expands and his heart thump thump thumps in his chest like a deep base rhythm.

He starts rocking in wider arcs, drawing big circles with his hips. Steve is letting out an array of deep contented noises, pressing them right into Tony’s tongue, right into the roof of his mouth until he can’t be sure who the noises are coming from anymore. It’s maddening, impossibly wonderful and Tony just wants to melt completely, wants to turn up the heat until he and Steve can be fused into a new shape all together. 

The breaks between kisses grow longer, the time Steve takes to pull Tony’s bottom lip between his teeth and just hold it there stretches and stretches. They stay apart long enough that Steve’s lips start running along Tony’s jaw instead, start mapping their way towards his neck. Tony’s fingers scramble to get a hold in his hair and press him closer, direct him to the spot that makes his toes curl.

His eyes are half open, but Tony can’t make out any of his surroundings. The entire world is grey around the edges, unfocused except for the sensation of Steve’s open mouth on his throat. He is sucking hard, nibbling at the thin skin until Tony can _feel_ it purpling. The idea makes him shiver, makes him squeeze his legs around Steve’s waist and when did he wrap them around him? It’s perfect though, his center of gravity is off just enough that he has to hold onto Steve’s head for support, has to depend on the firm arms wrapped tightly around his torso to stay upright. 

Steve’s kisses have made it down to Tony’s collar bone and he always knew that as a sensitive spot, but god the way Steve drags his tongue along the line of it is nothing short of a revelation. The rolling of his hips speeds up, muscles contracting of their own accord. They are pressed so tightly together, Tony’s cock feels trapped and he can only imagine how Steve is feeling in his beautifully tight jeans. 

The thought catches, snags in Tony’s brain and he needs to fix that right now. He shuffles, uses his body to shove Steve back into the couch. The whine Steve lets out when that separates his lips from Tony’s skin is almost enough to derail him, but then Tony can see the bulge under Steve’s zipper and his focus zeros in. 

“Just, let me.” He mutters, knees finally under him enough that he can get his hands out in front of him, can get his fingers to fumble at the waist of Steve’s jeans. For his part, Steve just sits and stares at him for a long minute. His chest is heaving and his hands have stilled to rest in the crook between Tony’s hips and thighs, thumbs laying just close enough to get Tony’s cock aching. 

It takes far too long to be reasonable, but Tony gets the button open, gets the zipper pulled down. He loses track of the plot at that point though, loses track of every single thing that isn’t the wet spot tinting Steve’s blue briefs. It makes his fingers twitch, makes his mouth water and shit that bulge is so big. 

“Tony.” Steve husks out and Tony’s eyes flick up to find Steve open mouthed and hazy eyed, staring at Tony like he wants to devour him. Tony feels inclined to allow it. 

“I wanna touch you.” Tony admits and Steve just swallows, twice. The silence starts to linger and Tony is starting to think he did something wrong, tripped some wire again and ruined what might have turned into the best night of his life. 

Then Steve is kissing him, bumping their mouths together awkwardly until Tony opens his mouth to gasp. It tips into absolutely wonderful then, lips slotting together like it is their designed purpose. Tony melts, arms limp at his sides and eyes fluttering closed, giving over to the direction of Steve’s hand now at his nape. Tony feels Steve’s other arm circle all the way around his waist, feels it tighten and moans so loud into Steve’s mouth it fills the entire living room. 

Steve puls back with a pop, but his arm gets even tighter, fingers digging into Tony’s side and the keening that illisits is completely involuntary. It makes Steve’s eyes go wide and Tony bites down on his lip to try and get himself under control. It may have been a long fucking while since he’s been with anyone, but jesus he has never been this needy for it.

“God, Tony. I want you so bad.” Steve blurts. For a second Tony just looks at him, but the words finally translate into some kind of meaning and his body suddenly sets itself on fire. His cheeks feel tight, the whole room gets so hot and Tony can hear the pounding of his heart in his ears. Steve just says it so sincerely, practically groans out the admission and Tony can’t figure out what on earth he is supposed to do with it. 

He knew objectively that Steve liked him, that Steve must like kissing him and cuddling and holding hands. They did all those things so often that Tony at least knew Steve liked him enough to indulge the excessive amount of each that Tony demanded. He always seemed to enjoy it even, seemed to get just as into their make out sessions. Still, it feels like the idea is just now hitting Tony. Steve wants him, wants him enough to be kneading his fingers into the back of Tony’s head, to be looking at Tony with so much hunger it steals all the air from the world. 

They are really going to do this. They _both_ really fucking want to do this. 

“Steve.” That’s it, that’s the only thing Tony can even think to say and, fuck, it comes out so whiny, so plaintive and needy, and Tony can’t bring himself to care. He wants Steve so bad and Steve wants him just as much. 

“Yeah.” Steve agrees, though to what Tony has absolutely no idea. It can’t matter though, not when Steve’s arm is so tight around him, not when his muscles are tensing against Tony’s back. Certainly not when his other hand slips off Tony’s neck and down to cup his ass. “Let me just…”

Then the world is tilting and Steve is fucking standing up, standing straight off the couch with Tony in his arms like it is something completely normal and not at all insane. Tony’s body freezes, goes completely rigid for one insane second. Then, well, then he loses all control of every single part of his mind in one fell swoop. 

“Holy shit, holy shit.” He pants out, legs winding around Steve’s waist, heels digging into his tight round ass in the best possible way. “Jesus fuck, Steve. This is the single hottest thing any person has ever done in the history of the universe. Oh my god.”

Steve laughs, skin going that wonderful blotchy red and Tony can’t help himself; he just has to lean forward and lick a stripe across that overwarm cheek. It tastes wonderful, sweat salty, but the real draw of it is the great huffing grunt of air Steve lets out at the motion. Actually, it’s really the way it makes him squeeze Tony closer and turn to drop him back down on the couch. 

Tony is laying across the length of it now and Steve is looming over him, still between Tony’s splayed legs and gripping Tony’s waist and ass tight. It casts his entire face in shadow, makes his already lust filled eyes look even darker. Then he swallows, his grip loosening and face getting a little uncertain. 

“Is this okay?” He asks and Tony realizes that he is literally just laying limply on the couch and staring at Steve. It takes a great effort to do much else though, because Steve literally just picked him up and tossed him down on the couch, just crawled over him and caged him under his bulk. It’s just like being backed into the wall all over again and, also, about ten million times better. The whole world exists right here, in the space between their chests. 

“This is good.” Tony chokes out, literally chokes on the saliva in his mouth as he says it and has to cough a few times to clear it out. 

“You sure? I don’t wanna crush you?” Steve says with that wonderfully serious ernesty Tony can never get over. It makes him smile, gives him the body control to lift one hand and run it through Steve’s hair. He winds his fingers lazily through it and watches with fondness as Steve settles into the touch. His worry melts with each pass of Tony’s fingers. 

It feels intimate, laying under Steve and looking into his eyes. He feels connected, feels seen and known and not rebuked for any of it. He feels desired and cared for and he loves how soft Steve’s hair is so very much. 

“I’m sure, I am very very sure.” Tony promises, speaking through a throat that suddenly feels tight. This is going to be something much more than getting off together and Tony can’t understand how he ever did this with anyone but Steve. He wants Steve to see all of him, to see how his body works and how it feels good. He wants to see how Steve reacts to his touch, how his face twists when he gets close. He wants to kiss Steve through his climax and hold him after and, holy shit, it’s so powerfully amazing. “I’m so fucking sure.”

Steve smiles, bright and stunning and Tony could almost cry about it. Before he can get too worked up though, Steve drops down, taking his weight onto his elbows and collapsing all along Tony’s body. It yanks a gasp out of Tony’s throat, makes him suddenly light headed and blurry eyed. God, Steve is so heavy and he is so hard and he is so completely covering him.

Tony can’t be patient anymore, he can’t wait. He needs Steve to do something to him, he needs to touch Steve, needs to see him. Needs, needs, _needs_. 

“Off, off.” Tony is saying, pawing at the sides of Steve’s jeans, yanking haphazardly while pushing up into the heat of him with his hips. “I need to touch you, please.”

“Yeah, yeah. That’s… okay” Steve huffs, tilting his hips up just enough to yank his pants and briefs down over his thighs with one hand. The motion is too quick and Tony shivers at the harsh gasp Steve lets out when his dick springs free. It bounces up, hits his stomach and is so red already Tony could most certainly cry about it. 

“You’re uncut.” He blurts even as his hand moves to Steve’s stomach, dipping lower and lower until he can grasp the base in his fist. Steve chokes out some half moaning noise, dipps his head down to see Tony’s hand on him. It makes Tony bold, makes him give a long slow jerk. The foreskin bunches up at the end, not quite covering the head, but pulls down over it when Tony drags his hand back down. Steve’s dick is so wet already, glistening in the low light between them and if Tony wasn’t so thoroughly enjoying his current position he would get his mouth on it. 

“Yeah, is that... is that okay?” Steve asks, but it comes out in pieces, clipped in places by tiny cracking moans. Tony’s hand is speeding up, pushing the foreskin up and down, squeezing down at the head and base in alternating patterns. He can’t look away, but Steve can’t seem to either. He is resting his forehead on Tony’s and they both are just staring down at Tony’s hand in fascination. 

“Oh, it’s very okay.” Tony reassures, tilting his hips up to brush his own cock into the side of Steve’s leg. It makes Steve moan louder, pushes a heavy gust of air from his lungs. He shuffles, pressing his hips hard into Tony’s fist and leaning to support himself on one arm. Tony lets the motion jostle them, lets it drag Steve’s leg along the bulge in his pants and shudders. He’s so focused on the feel of Steve’s hot skin in his fist to realize the point of Steve’s shifting. So, it comes as a shock when Steve’s hand is suddenly at his hip, fingers hooking in the waistband of his sweatpants and pulling. 

“Oh, please. Yes, get them off. Touch me, touch me.” Tony babbles, lifting his hips and wiggling back and forth to get his free hand in to help. He can’t let go of Steve, doesn’t even consider the idea, and it makes for some interesting contortion. They manage though and soon the fabric of both his boxers and sweats are pooling around his knees and Steve is grabbing him.

“Oh shit, Steve.” Tony groans out, eyes squeezing shut and hand faltering in its rhythm on him, grasping too tight and making him hiss into Tony’s forehead. 

Steve’s hand feels amazing, palms silky smooth and fingers calloused from all his sketching and painting. Even with his eyes closed Tony would know that hand anywhere, can remember running his fingers along those knuckles and it makes it all so much better. Steve is jerking him off. _His_ Steve is twisting his wrist on the upstroke and sliding down quick right after running his palm over the head. Tony breathes harshly, neck arching and back bowing. Steve is fucking faster into his hand, matching the pace of his own strokes over Tony. 

“Kiss me.” Tony pleads, pursing his lips and rubbing their foreheads together until Steve gets with the program. It takes a second, probably because Steve seems incapable of looking away from their hands on eachother, but when he finally gets his lips on Tony everything clicks over into perfect. His lips are just as good as before, but there is now a live wire connecting them to Tony’s cock and it pulses with every stroke of Steve’s hand. Tony sucks desperately on his tongue, bites down into his lip to hold onto something as the world starts to spin out of control.

“Oh fuck.” Steve groans into his mouth and his thrusts grow more frantic, more using Tony’s hand than allowing for any real finesse. Which honestly is just as well because he can’t think past the feel of Steve’s lips and hand and bulk pressing more and more into him. He is so surrounded and held and it is getting to be too much.

“Yes, Steve. Baby, please don’t stop. Don’t stop. It’s so good, you’re so good.” Tony says between desperate open mouth kisses, though he can’t honestly tell what any of the words mean. He just hopes he’s getting some idea of how fucking amazing this all is across to Steve. Because it is, it is so amazing and he doesn't want it to ever stop. “I’m so close honey, baby, I’m so... please don’t stop.”

“Tony, Tony.” Is all Steve says back, over and over into the side of Tony’s face, into the crook of his neck and the underside of his jaw. Then his hips snap up so hard, Tony can feel it all the way up his arm and he is groaning so loud and long into Tony’s neck, it sends vibrations all along it. 

Tony can’t spare much thought for that though because his eyes are open now, and just past the top of Steve’s head he can see his dick. He can see it as it jerks in his hand and then as his cum spurts out and onto Tony’s stomach. It’s on him, it’s getting on the hem of his shirt and Tony can’t fucking care because some of it is getting on his cock and Steve’s cum is on his dick and that is… That is so _fucking_ hot. 

“Jesus, fucking hell. Steve!” Tony shouts and his orgasm is suddenly right there. It’s crashing into him and over him and all over Steve’s hand. The thought makes him whine harder, makes him press up further into that hand as he shudders with the intensity of it all.

While Tony is still thrusting up in an effort to chase the aftershocks, Steve slumps down over him with a sigh that has to contain all the air in the world. It pushes Tony deep into the couch cushions and makes his toes curl even as he twists away from the too intense feeling of Steve’s hand on him. His own hand is stuck between their stomachs, but he can’t think about anything at all. His brain has left the building and Tony won’t mind if it never comes back. He feels tingly all over, feels languid and molten soft underneath Steve. 

They breathe, just lay there and breathe for a long stretch of liquid time. They sync up, in and out together as their heartbeats slow and the burning heat of the room starts to dissipate. Some external force moves Tony’s free arm, gets it wrapped around Steve’s back enough to rub down the length of it. It guides Tony’s head to tilt right and get his lips against Steve’s temple. He takes a deep inhale of the sent there, lets the sweat rub into his lips and savors every bit of it. 

“You’re something else, Tony.” Steve whispers into Tony’s neck, body still limp over him like the world’s most wonderful blanket. 

“I like you, too.” Tony tells him with a chuckle, kissing his temple more firmly. Steve laughs back, though it’s a slow and far away thing. His smile is dragging back and forth across Tony’s skin and it could be ticklish if it didn’t feel so sweet. Tony just holds him closer, presses his face into his hair and relishes the wonderful feeling of Steve all around him, surrounding him from every angle. 

They are sticky, still half in their pants and it is only going to be a matter of time before Tony’s trapped hand starts to fall asleep. None of it matters though, it all just makes the world glow a bit brighter, makes the overhead light hue a soft and luxurious yellow. The couch is comfortable too and Tony is starting to consider the merits of just laying like this for the rest of his life when Steve shifts. 

It jostles them both, slides the soft skin of Steve’s still overwarm cock against Tony’s upper thigh. Something about that, about Steve’s now mostly flaccid dick rubbing along his skin is more intensely intimate than anything they’ve done so far. Tony shivers, gets is brain so fully caught on the idea that Steve makes it all the way up on his elbows before Tony notices the fresh air on his lower stomach.

“Sorry, sorry. Didn’t mean to just…” Steve is saying, all blotchy red in the face again. It makes Tony blink back into the world and that just simply won’t do. He uses the new space to pull his sticky hand out from between them, takes just enough time to wipe it against his rucked up shirt, and then flings it over Steve’s back to join the other. With now two arms worth of leverage, he yanks Steve back down on top of him so they are flush chest to chest, noses scant inches apart.

“No, don’t get up yet. Just, stay.” Tony whines, shaking his head quickly back and forth. Grinning crookedly down at him Steve gives into the request and settles down so Tony can only just breathe in under the weight. 

They are eye to eye now, Tony can make out every individual shade of Steve’s eyes and they are so horribly beautiful. The little crinkles at the edges hint at what he’ll look like as the years pass, and Tony is overcome with the need to see that someday. It’s dumb, just a fleeting idea, but something about watching the age lines work their way into Steve’s skin, of being the one to make sure they are more for laughs than worry. Well, it has an appeal to it. Something much more than an appeal if Tony is being honest. 

He’s still trying to tamp down on the urge to ask Steve to keep doing this with him forever, when he feels fingers brush along the line of his cheek. Steve is still supporting himself on both elbows, so he can only manage a light swipe with his finger tips. It burns all along Tony’s face all the same, takes up every shred of his focus. 

Steve is just looking at him with so much, so much _something_ , in those big blue eyes. He is staring down at Tony, smiling so soft and petting his cheek like it is made of something delicate and breakable. It makes Tony feel like he really is fragile, like he is going to shatter and spill out over the edge of the couch if Steve stops touching him. 

“Good?” Steve asks, with the audacity to sound a little uncertain of the answer. Tony is laughing before he can stop it, the sound bright and happier than he’s ever heard from himself. Something heavy is gone, some hard object is no longer taking up space in his chest and all the volume can finally make it out.

“So good, so fucking stupid good.” Tony promises, grin so large it might just end up splitting his face in two. He can’t stop chuckling. He feels dizzy with the euphoria of being this close to Steve, of having this memory of them splayed, with pants half off, across Tony’s too expensive couch. 

“High praise.” Steve tells him, chuckling along and looking far too pleased at Tony’s inability to stop giggling. Fuck, he just looks so happy and Tony had something to do with that. He put that stupidly fond look on that far too beautiful face and he can’t stop the swell of pride. 

“Best I’ve ever had.” He tries to joke, but finds the words come out too sincere. They didn’t even make it fully out of any of their clothes, barely lasted more than two solid minutes. Yet, Tony can’t even tell himself the statement is an exaggeration. He’s never felt this intensely satisfied in his life. 

“Me too.” Steve tells him, smile impossibly softer. He leans down, uses the light pressure of his fingers still on Tony’s cheek to guide him up just enough to touch their lips together. It’s a tiny thing, soft and quiet. Their lips are barely puckered, still stretch too flat against their teeth with their grins. It explodes the whole room into a beautifully dizzying warmth. 

Steve pulls back to look at him again, to pet his cheek and grin crookidly. Tony breathes in, shaky and more wet than he’ll ever admit too. 

“One more?” He asks, tilting his chin up and parting his lips because he knows how to play these games. Knows how to get Steve chuckling and leaning back down. 

“As much as you want.”

* * *

Steve gets an A on his test. Tony takes full responsibility, no matter that it was for art history.


End file.
